


The Howling Angels

by sanctuary_for_all



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family, Feels, Gen, Guardian Angels, Humor, from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little thing like death isn’t going to be enough to keep the Howling Commandos from watching their Captain and Sergeant’s backs. </p><p>***Eventual spoilers for "Captain America: The First Avenger," “Avengers” and “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off [this](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com/post/97837609816/howling-angels) tumblr post of mine. I don't know how long this will be, but I'll at least carry it through the end of "Captain America: The Winter Soldier."

Even after the heart attack took him in 1969, Timothy “Dum Dum” Dugan didn’t rush upstairs right away. He stayed through the funeral, doing what he could to comfort June and the girls even though they couldn’t see him. Their husbands were helping out with that, which eased his mind, and he knew that the rest of the commandos would be there in case there was something his son-in-laws couldn’t do. They were all at the funeral with their wives, standing next to June and the kids like the family they were, and Tim went into the great beyond with peace in his heart.

He didn’t see a lot of harps when he made it through the Pearly Gates, but the welcoming committee who met him on the other side was better than any angel could have been. His folks where there, his mama just as pretty as she’d been when he was a little boy, along with his older brother Will and his son Franklin. There was also a couple of guys he’d known from the SSR and SHIELD, along with a whole rash of army buddies who hadn’t made it back from the war. It’d been years since he’d seen most of them, but they all hugged and slapped each other on the back as if they’d never been apart.

There were two faces, though, that were missing. Damn important ones, and he was prepared to razz both of them for at least a few centuries for not being there to welcome him up.

“Keane.” He pulled aside one of the men he’d served with in the 107th, a fresh-faced kid who’d died at Azzano. “Where’s Barnes?”

“The sergeant?” Keane’s brow furrowed, glancing around as if he expected Bucky to pop up out of a cloud. “I don’t think he’s up here.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, reminding himself that the kid was nowhere near that awful night after Bucky had fallen. No one who had been there, torn between grief over their lost friend and worry about Rogers, would have ever even _thought_ something so stupid. “I know for a fact he is, Private.”

Keane scratched the back of his neck, thinking for a moment, then shrugged. “Sorry. Haven’t seen him.”

Tim told himself he’d just picked the wrong kid to talk to, but the more people he asked the harder it was to make himself believe it. He talked to the rest of the members of the 107th, but they all gave him the same answer Keane had. The guys he’d known from the SSR and SHIELD hadn’t seen either Bucky or Cap, some of whom had died well after the war and sure as hell should have known that they’d be up here. None of them, though, had given it much thought.

Tim’s insides went cold.

He started hunting around for someone high enough up to give him some answers, but no matter where he looked he couldn’t seem to find a single damn pair of wings in sight. Instead, he found Bucky’s folks, who’d settled down in a nice little corner of heaven right next to Cap’s parents, and all four of them were just as worried as he was.

“I got condolence letters for both of them, Mr. Dugan.” Winnie Barnes wiped her eyes, her dark hair the exact same shade as her son’s. “We scrimped and saved to get markers for both of them, even though we didn’t have bodies. When I died, all I could think about was getting to see them again.”

“But she found me instead, and I had to tell her that I hadn’t seen them.” Sarah Rogers was clearly trying to be strong, but her voice was shaking. “There is _no_ way Stevie would have made it to the other side without coming to see me and his father, and Bucky would have been right behind him.”

“We’ve looked everywhere.” Joseph Rogers’ expression was grim. “No one can tell us anything.”

“We’ve tried to get a look down on Earth, to see if we can maybe figure out what happened, but they say we don’t have access.” George Barnes held up his hands, anguished and helpless.

Tim’s jaw tightened. If these angels thought he could rest easy knowing his Captain and Sergeant were MIA, then they had another thing coming. “Don’t worry about that,” he promised them, more than prepared to raise a little hell. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”


	2. Chapter 2

If you needed someone in charge to show up, the easiest way to make it happen was to break something. 

True, heaven wasn't exactly designed for that, but the Howling Commandos had always been known for their ingenuity. His first step was to find the part of heaven set aside for baseball players, the diamond where Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and all the other greats spent eternity getting home runs and wowing the crowd with perfect steals, and sneaking in to the dugout so he could steal a bat.

Then he headed straight for the Pearly Gates, big and gold and no doubt damn expensive, and started swinging.

The crashes rang across the clouds, loud enough that a whole bunch of dead folks suddenly ran up with anxious looks on their faces. Still, none of them did anything, and no one with wings or halos appeared in the middle of the crowd. Tim swung harder.

Finally, thunder crashed. TIMOTHY DUGAN, CEASE THIS AT ONCE!

Tim scanned the gate, picking out a nice, fragile-looking piece of decorative filigree, then aimed right at it. "Come make me, wing boy!"

Suddenly, he felt himself thrown back, away from the gate, and an angel in full smiting mode suddenly appeared in front of him. HEAVEN IS A PLACE OF PEACE AND SERENITY! VIOLENCE HAS NO PLACE HERE!

Tim stood up. "This is probably where I'm supposed to fear and tremble, isn't it?" he asked, voice easy as if it was a Sunday in the park.

The angel's brow furrowed, the confusion leaching the shine out of him. "I don't—"

The rest of the sentence suddenly cut off when Tim slammed the angel up against the Pearly Gates, a M1911 pistol appearing in his hand right when he needed it. "Sorry," he growled, pressing the barrel of the gun up against the angel's neck. "But I'm generally the one making other people fear and tremble."

The angel's eyes went wide as he glanced down at the weapon. "How...."

"You know, I don't really know." Tim smiled, the kind he used to reserve for his daughters' boyfriends and men who were about to die. "Maybe God's sending a miracle or two my way."

The angel looked furious at that, the glow starting up again. "How dare—"

Tim pushed the gun deeper into the angel's neck, stopping the glow and cutting off the rest of the sentence. "As much as I'd like to get into a pissing contest with you, wing boy, we've got more important things to worry about. I need to know where James Barnes and Steven Rogers are. Now."

The angel glared at him. "I'm not a tour guide. Find them yourself."

"See, that's the problem. Both those boys died more than 20 years ago, and yet no one up here has seen hide nor hair of them since," Tim snapped, furious now. "When their folks asked where their sons were, you threw 'no comment' bullshit at them and left them to worry. Now that I'm here, though, that's just not gonna cut it anymore."

The angel looked shifty now, pausing just long enough to make it obvious he was scrambling for something to say. Unfortunately for him, the next words out of his mouth were damn stupid. "If they're not in heaven, there's only one other place the dead—"

Tim slammed the angels head back against the gate, making an even louder clang than the baseball bat had. The glow started up again, only to fade when Tim knocked him back a second time. He knew the guy could overpower him any time he felt like it, but apparently angels weren't used to being confused. "Shut your damn mouth." Tim's voice was a growl. "We may have had to get our hands dirty protecting folks, but Cap and Bucky were two of the best men to ever walk God's green earth. There is _no_ way they ended up downstairs, and I'm not about to let some idiot angel say otherwise."

"How dare—"

"Elyon, enough." A female voice came from behind Tim, the words ringing even though they were quiet. "We cannot keep silent about this any longer."

Tim let go of Elyon, turning to face the small, dark-haired angel giving him such a sad look. "Peace, Timothy Dugan." She held her hands out to him, the expression on her face sad enough to set off all of Tim's warning bells. "Your friends live still."

Given the circumstances, the words were nowhere near as comforting as the gal clearly expected them to be. "That's funny, because I went to memorial services for both of them." There was a cold weight in his gut, even as his mind started racing through all the possibilities. With no sign of either of them for the last 26 years, none of those possibilities were good. "Not a lot of ways to survive a fall down a canyon or a plane crash into an iceberg."

The angel pressed her lips together, and Elyon must have seen something on her face. "Sophia, don't—"

Sophia shook her head, cutting him off, then focused on Tim again. "Wisdom can sometimes be a terrible thing, Timothy," she said softly. "We have denied their parents the answers they seek because the truth would only bring them pain. If you would, we would spare you that pain as well."

He felt sick. "Sorry, ma'am, but your plan hasn't been working all that well. You've kept their folks worried sick for decades, and I have to say I'm not feeling too good myself." He stepped forward, holstering his gun. "Those two watched my back through hell. No matter how bad it is, I'm not about to leave them out there without backup."

The angel sighed. "Very well." She turned, gesturing for Tim to follow her. "Come with me."


	3. Chapter 3

She led him to a small, white room with what looked like a big mirror on the floor. Tim went to the edge and looked over, but all he could see is his own face staring back at him.

The worst thing about it was that the room was completely empty. The guard on the other side of the door made it clear that non-angels weren't allowed in without an escort, and he had a sneaking suspicion the angels didn't bother showing up all that often. "So this is the only place you folks up here can look down on all the little people."

Sophia flinched a little at the anger in his voice. "Many up here are not ready for it."

He narrowed his eyes at her. He'd never hit a woman – not unless they were trying to kill him – but he wasn't feeling real friendly toward angels of any kind at the moment. "I think you need to let them decide when they're ready."

She made herself meet his gaze. "Are you sure that you are, Timothy Dugan?" Her voice was soft. "Heaven should be a place free of pain, and that will no longer be true for you once you witness this."

"It isn't true for me right now, ma'am." His stomach twisted again, even as he braced himself for far worse. "Just show me."

Sophia stepped to the edge of the mirror, waving her hand over the surface, and the surface turned cloudy a moment before disappearing to reveal a sheet of Artic ice. Tim got town on his knees to get a closer look, remembering all those reports Stark used to get about the expeditions he sent out looking for Cap. All the trips he took, trying to find the spot the plane went down.

His jaw tightened as he lifted his head to meet the angel's eyes. "Don't you dare tell me he's still down there." Stark had been looking for a body to bury, but the thought that he'd been wandering around there for decades....

"Steven Rogers sleeps beneath the ice," Sophia said, answering the question he'd really been asking. "The Super-Soldier Serum keeps his cells alive as he waits to be found by someone who can revive him."

"That's...." Tim let out a breath, mind racing. Somehow, this was so much worse than needing to find a body. "Are you sure there's no way you can get his coordinates to Stark? Divine inspiration or something?"

Sophia shook her head. "It is impossible for us to effect the mortal realm, no matter how much we might wish it otherwise."

He closed his eyes a moment, swallowing disappointment. "So the guardian angels thing is just a fairy story preachers tell."

The angel looked like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. "That is enough wisdom for now, Timothy. I'm sure you wish to spend more time with your family...."

"And I will, ma'am." His voice was flat. "Just as soon as you show me Bucky."

She pressed her lips together again, then waved her hand a second time. The mist parted to reveal a street lined with very nice houses, somewhere in South America. There was a man in the shadows on another roof, and Tim had played the game long enough that he wasn't even surprised when there was the quiet, slicing sound of a bullet and the sound of shattering glass.

He looked back up at the angel. "I'm not sure what you're showing me, here."

"Wait." Sophia came forward, kneeling down at the edge of the mirror as well. "Look at the assassin's eyes."

With a line like that, he didn't have to. "You're telling me that's Bucky." Rage lit like someone had struck a match. "No. No way in _hell_."

"HYDRA found him, after he fell. Perfected their brainwashing technique." She looked away for a moment, escaping, then forced herself to meet his eyes. Her voice was as toneless as he'd ever heard it. "They keep him cryogenically frozen when he's not killing for them."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing to keep from throwing up. He didn't have a stomach anymore, technically, but the memory of revulsion was more than enough to do the job.

They should have kept looking for him. Damn it, _why_ hadn't they kept looking for him? How could they have left him alone in the middle of that _hell_?

He heard Sophia get to her feet, moving towards him. "I told you that you wouldn't wish to see, Timothy. We—"

Tim flinched away from the hand she tried to lay on his shoulder, glaring up at her. "I need regular access to this room." He staggered to his feet, eyes still on the shadowed man in the mirror. On Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. "I don't care how you do it. Just make it happen."

_I'm sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry. But I'll figure something out.  I promise._

He heard her gasp of shock. "You can't want—"

"Want has nothing to do with it, ma'am." He tamped the fury and regret back down, forced it to wait until it was of some use. "Bucky needs a guardian angel, and since none of you are doing the job I'm gonna take it on."

Tim still didn't know what the hell he was going to tell their parents. Maybe he'd have his mom come with him, so she could help hold the ladies while they cried.

Sophia took a step back, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You are not an angel," she said quietly. "And even if you were, I told you – guardian angels do not exist."

His fingers curled into fists as he thought about his friend. "They do now."


	4. Chapter 4

Being a guardian angel was damn tough when you couldn't do any actual guarding.

If it had just been the rules standing in his way, Tim would have happily smashed through them and gotten down to business. But it turned out that heaven just wasn't designed to let folks reach back down to Earth, no matter how much they wanted to or how good the cause was. Hell, there wasn't even a decent two-way radio between here and there, which meant that Tim couldn't even shout a warning to all the people he wanted to keep safe.

And oh, there was a lot of shouting he needed to do. June was doing okay – his sweetheart had always been tougher than half the soldiers he knew – but Kim's oldest was falling in with a bad crowd and it turned out Lucy's husband needed a good, solid punch to the jaw. Jim ended up taking care of the last one for him, but it just wasn't the same.

It was worse with Cap and Bucky, since Tim was the only one who knew they needed guarding in the first place. Stark was still looking for Cap, but every time he got close he'd veer off again in completely the wrong direction. Tim had shouted himself hoarse that first time, trying to get Stark's men to turn around again, but it hadn't done a bit of good.

And Buck ... hell. It was a nightmare watching those bastards drag his friend along like a puppet, and every time they made him take a shot Tim flinched like he'd done it himself.

Sophia came and sat with him, sometimes, watching him like she was trying to see inside his head. "Why do you do this?" she asked him one day. "You know there's nothing you can do for them, but you still regularly come and subject yourself to unnecessary pain."

"I won't leave them alone." Tim hadn't needed to explain that to his folks or Will – they'd known him well enough not to ask – but there were a couple of the men he'd served with who'd come to him wondering. "Even if that's all I can do, you can be damn sure I'll do at least that much."

Her brow furrowed. "Your family has come sometimes, to watch your wife, children and grandchildren. But you asked Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes's parents to stay away."

It'd been a fight, one they brought back up every time he stopped by to see them. One day he might lose, but he planned on holding that moment off as long as he could.

"I'm trained to take the tough stuff. They aren't." He narrowed his eyes at the angel. "You folks in the heavenly host sure don't know much about people."

She looked thoughtful. "We are learning."

Mostly, though, it was just him during the times he checked on Bucky. He was in the cold storage today, just as much under the ice as Cap was, and Tim frowned at the strain he could still see on his friend's face. "Damn it, Buck," he murmured, laying a hand on the barrier between heaven and earth. "They don't even let you sleep peaceful, do they?"

Tim also kept an eye on the HYDRA bastards who were hurting him. His handler Pierce was clearly a psycho, a young golden boy with absolutely nothing in his eyes, but the techs were almost more worrying on a day-to-day basis. They poked at Buck like he was a thing, just a bunch of nerves and wires instead of the American hero that he was. If he could have, Tim would have fried each and every one of them with a lightning bolt.

One, a protégé of Zola's named William Darvin, was the worst. He kept getting _ideas_ , new ways to hurt people just for the hell of it, and the little smile he would get every time Bucky screamed had damn well better have been enough to stamp his passport to hell.

Problem was, he wasn't getting there fast enough.

"You bastard." Tim growled the words, fingers clenching as he watched Darvin flip through a stack of printouts detailing everything they'd done to Bucky. He was whistling as he did it, and Tim had never hated a man more in his life.  

Suddenly, Darvin stopped, brow lowering as he flipped back to the previous page. He reread something, then his eyes went wide. "We could wipe him completely," he breathed. "Oh, that's _brilliant_."

Tim's insides went cold as one of the other techs looked up. "What do you mean?"

"The individual programming sessions don't last long enough to be efficient, but that's because his prefrontal cortex keeps trying to reset itself." The monster actually sounded excited as he spoke. "But if my theory is correct, we could permanently destroy everything but his permanent muscle memory and rebuild him from the ground up."

No. No no no no no.

The other tech looked dubious, as if they were discussing a science problem. "Doesn't the Winter Soldier use skills the man already had? What if you break him?"

Darvin waved a dismissive hand. "I am too skilled to make him useless." He stood, gathering the printouts. "Once I bring my theory to our superiors, I'm certain they will authorize—"

Of course they would. Caught up in a wave of rage and horror, Tim was certain that those bastards would allow Darvin to do whatever in the hell he wanted, and when it was done there wouldn't be anything of Bucky left to save. He'd been helpless before, but now he could practically watch the last shred of hope slip through his fingers.

Tim's fingers curled against the barrier, and if he could have gotten any kind of grip he would have tried to rip it away with his bare hands. He willed an earthquake, a lightning bolt, a truck slamming into the secret facility, anything to make the bastard dead before he could do what he wanted to Bucky. The ground could open and hell could swallow Darvin up, that was fine, but he needed to be dead and gone before he got the chance to draw another breath. He smashed a fist against the barrier, ready to break heaven down if that was what it took....

He froze at a sudden choking sound, hand jerking back as he watched Darvin clutch his chest as his face changed color. He stared as the man dropped to the ground, the other tech running over, but it was too late. Tim knew a heart attack when he saw one.

A heart attack, in a man who'd just barely passed 40 and was skinny as a rail.

The other tech was shouting for a medic, but Darvin had stopped breathing by this point. Tim sat back on his heels, staring down at the dead scientist, and started planning.

Maybe this guardian angel thing wasn't so impossible, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Much as Tim hated to admit it, killing wasn’t always the answer.

Oh, not Darvin – that bastard made the world a brighter place just by no longer being in it.  Same could be said of everyone down there hurting Bucky, and when Tim knocked off a second tech with the same trick he used on Darvin he’d done a victory dance right there and then.

But the big bosses just ended up replacing him, swapping the guy out with another soulless flunkie who couldn’t see what they were doing was wrong. Didn’t make a damn bit of difference to poor Bucky.

So he decided to save the killing for serious cases like Darvin, and started figuring out what else he could do if he wanted it bad enough. He didn’t dare try to shove any force down on the guy – it might be a blessing if he accidentally gave Buck a heart attack, but Tim was still hoping for a better option – but if he wanted it bad enough he could sometimes get civilians out of the way.

In between missions, he made life as miserable for the techs as he could. The same force that could give someone a heart attack could sometimes also shut down equipment, and Tim had known Stark long enough to have a pretty good idea of what to concentrate on. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something.

Pierce, though, he still tried to kill. Sent all the anger, pain and hate he could muster down on the man’s head every single damn day, even though it didn’t seem to do a damn bit of good.

“Maybe he is protected,” Sophia offered one day, the words hesitant.

“It sure as _hell_ better not be by anyone up here.” The words were a threat without Tim necessarily intending them to be, fury rising up inside him. “If you guys are keeping that monster safe and not—“

“No, no.” She held up her hands, trying to reassure him. “It is not us. But those below have access to things we do not.”

It wasn’t much of a comfort. “There’s something pretty damn wrong when Hell can keep a better eye on their people than Heaven can.”

She sighed. “If I knew a way to change that, I would.”

Bucky and Cap’s parents, however, weren’t nearly so willing to accept the current state of affairs. The ladies were the most persistent about seeing their boys, no matter what state they were in, and Tim knew he couldn't hold them back much longer. It was bad enough that his own dear sweet mama had started to side with them.

"You can't keep their hearts from breaking, Timmy, no matter how hard you try," she told him, patting his hand like she used to do when he was a boy. "And if you keep standing between them and their babies, not even I will be able to protect you."

After that, Tim really had no choice but to let them come. He did try to argue one more time when the ladies decided they should come without their husbands, that first time - they needed the support, if nothing else - but they were firm.

"We're better at the tough stuff," Sarah Rogers explained, voice kind.

Winnie Barnes nodded solemnly. "If we think the men can handle it, we'll bring them next time."

Still, Tim made sure he was right there when they got the first look at their boys. He started with Cap, a colorful blur deep beneath the ice, and Winnie's eyes were just as wet as Sarah's as both women reached out to touch the barrier.

"He's in a coma," Sarah said after a moment, sounding as if she was trying to reassure both of them as she reached over and squeezed the other woman's hand. "Cold slows a body down. I'm sure it's just like he's sleeping."

"And he's safe there," Winnie added, putting an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "No one can hurt him."

Sarah took a deep breath. "But that's not true of our other boy, is it?" She looked up at Tim, an equal mixture of dread and resolve in her eyes. "Tell us what's happening to Bucky, Mr. Dugan. Please."

Winnie nodded, equally determined and afraid, and Tim laid a hand on both their shoulders. "I don't think I've ever been with two braver people," he said quietly. "Brace yourselves, ladies."

Then he waved a hand over the barrier again to bring Bucky into view. It wasn't as bad as it could've been - there was no chance he'd have let them in here during one of Bucky's "missions," no matter what anyone said - but seeing him in the lab was pretty tough all on its own. Everything there was clearly designed to cause pain.

Both women gasped when they saw it. "Oh, my sweet Buck," Winnie whispered, hand shaking as she reached out toward him. The lines of his face were just as strained as they ever were, nightmares flickering behind his eyes. "What are they doing to him?"

Sarah glanced up at Tim again, too much understanding in her eyes, and she rubbed a soothing hand along Winnie's back. "Right now he's only sleeping," she soothed, wiping the tears from her cheek. "Just like our Steve."

Winnie gave her a look that made it clear she knew Sarah was avoiding the question, then squared her shoulders. "He's not sleeping right, though." She turned to Tim. "Is Stevie?"

Tim shrugged, hating that he didn't have an answer for her. "I don't know. I've thought about trying to send them something better to dream about, but the only memories I have to give them are from the war." He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "Some of them were pretty great, but I don't want to risk sending Buck anything that close to the darker stuff."

Winnie looked over at Sarah, a moment of understanding passing between them. "That Christmas?" Winnie asked softly.

Sarah nodded. "Absolutely."

Winnie looked back up at him. "What do we need to do?"

Tim's throat was tight. "Send it down to him as hard as you can."

"We can do that," Sarah murmured. They both leaned forward, faces intense with concentration as they pressed their hands against the barrier, and for a second Tim was almost sure they were gonna push right through.

Then they suddenly relaxed, eyes wet again. and Tim realized why. Bucky's expression had finally eased, making him look like he really was just asleep, and Tim felt his own eyes sting. "Nice job, ladies," he whispered, voice rough.

Winnie smiled just a little. "It's a mother's job," she said softly. "Now let's go do Stevie."

Sarah turned to Tim. "You'll bring us back." The statement was as much an order as anything he'd ever heard. "Even if we can't do anything else, we'll keep making sure those boys have the sweetest dreams we can give them."

Tim nodded, knuckling a tear away from his own eye. "Yes, ma'am."


	6. Chapter 6

The next Howlie to make it upstairs was Dernier, though the stubborn cuss took his sweet time getting there. Tim made sure he was with the family, as always absorbed into the great sprawling group of them like he was a missing cousin. The French chatter around him was warmly familiar - you could supposedly understand all languages in heaven, but after listening to Dernier and his family yammer on for decades he didn't need any holy boost to know exactly what everyone was saying.

He waited until Dernier had done the first round of hugs and back-slaps before squeezing in to grab his own. Dernier hugged him tight, slapping his back. “Your family is well, my friend,” he said, “and your daughters as beautiful as ever. Luckily for them they inherited their mother's looks.”

“While your poor kids got their looks from you,” Tim replied, finishing the old, beloved joke. When he saw Dernier looking over his shoulder, however, scanning the crowd as if looking for people who hadn't yet appeared, he sobered. “They're not here.”

Dernier’s eyes shot to Tim’s face, widening a moment before narrowing sharply. “That’s not possible.” His voice was flat, leaving no room for argument. “I would believe it of a thousand other people, but not them.”

“That’s not it.” Tim took a deep breath, accidentally catching the eye of Dernier’s mother. She knew about Steve and Bucky – all of the Howlie’s families who were upstairs did, and did what they could to help out their folks – and gave him a sympathetic look as she guided the rest of the family away.

Dernier looked over his shoulder, saw the way everyone gave them some space, then turned back to Tim with new suspicion in his eyes. “What is it?” His voice was quiet, urgent, and for just a moment the decades fell away and they were back in a foxhole again. “Tell me. Where are our Captain and Sergeant?”

He tried to make himself just say it, knowing that there was no way he could make it any better. But somehow, he couldn’t force the words up out of his throat, all the pain and frustration and worry he’d been holding in since he found out too much for them to hold.

When Dernier squeezed his shoulder, pure sympathy on his face, Tim squeezed his eyes shut a moment. When he found his voice again, it was rough. “I need to just show you.”

000

There was a _lot_ of swearing. Most of it in French, and heavily peppered with death threats despite the shimmer of tears in Dernier’s eyes. It was violent enough, and creative enough, that Sophia finally appeared. “Why did you show him this?” she asked Tim, despairing. “I know you are trying to help, but telling him does nothing but increase his—“

She was cut off when Dernier whirled on her, blood in his eye. “He _told_ me of this travesty because they are my _brothers_ ,” he snapped. “ _He_ is _also_ my brother, and even if I can do nothing more than rage and weep I will _not_ be denied my place at his side watching over them. Whatever he is doing, I am also doing. You will allow this.”

Sophia opened her mouth, as if trying desperately to find an argument that would sway him, when Tim stepped forward. “He’s staying,” he said quietly. “And when the rest of the team get up here, they’re gonna want in on it to. You might as well accept this now, or you’re just gonna keep losing the argument.”

She looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. “You cannot speak for all of them,” she said finally, the words full of plaintive confusion rather than denial. “Surely _some_ of you will welcome the peace that heaven offers rather than chain yourself to the pain of Earth!”

Dernier lifted his chin. “We do not chain ourselves to the pain, mademoiselle. We hold onto the lifelines of those we love, to make certain that they are never alone.”

Tim nodded. “What he said.”

She blinked hard, tears spilling over, then returned Tim’s nod. “I will let the others know.”

When she left, all of the breath left Dernier’s body in a rush. “I thought they were safe,” he managed, scrubbing at the wetness in his eyes with the heel of his hand as he knelt back down by the viewing area. “So many times over the years I told myself they were together, and at peace. That even though they were denied the lives we all lived, they at least had each other.” He pressed his lips together, expression bitter. “To know that they were not even allowed _that_....”

Tim knelt down beside him, squeezing his shoulder. There’d been two empty spots at every gathering the Howlies had held over the years, the reason for them such a part of family lore that grandkids would tell their little brothers and sisters that both those seats were taken. You didn’t forget family, no matter how long they’d been gone. “They’ve got us now.”

Dernier nodded, taking a deep breath, and got a calculating look in his eye. “Now that there is not an angel looking over our shoulders, I am guessing you have figured out how to do more than simply watch them.”

Tim sat back on his heels. “Not as much as I’d like, but I’ve been able to do a few things by thinking about it hard enough. With two of us here, we might be able to do more.” He grinned. “You know thinking real hard has never been one of my strong suits.”

Dernier grinned back. “With my cunning, and your stubbornness, we should be able to cause more trouble than heaven is prepared for.” Then he sobered again, looking back down at Earth. “Our captain is sleeping, at least. We should focus our attention on protecting James as much as we can.”

“Yeah.” Tim nodded. “About all we can do for Steve is try and push Howard in the right direction.”

“We have not been in much contact with Howard, these last few years,” Dernier said, regret coloring his voice. “I believe that he and Carter have also had a falling out, though she does try to keep track of his son.”

“I heard he had a kid.” Tim shook his head. “Never really saw him as a dad, though.”

“I don’t believe any of us did.” Dernier sat back on his heels as well. “Have you tried contacting some of our fellow squadmates, to see if they could assist?”

Tim shrugged. “Haven’t been sure what to say – only the most simple stuff comes through.” He looked back down through the viewer, thinking. “Maybe we could—“

He was cut off by the sound of Elyon storming into the viewing area. “How dare you—“

He skidded to a stop as Tim’s good old M1911 appeared in his hand, pointed directly at the angel. “We can still see if this works,” he said.

Dernier’s eyes lit. “I did not know we were allowed _weapons_ ,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“You’re not!” Elyon shouted, trying to advance on them both again. “And your ridiculous human _toys_ won’t work on—“

Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off by the explosion that suddenly appeared under his feet. As he was thrown backwards, everything about him singed, Dernier grinned. “I can work with this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my weekly posts and original short fiction on my [blog](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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